A Tabernacle Place

I imagine the Desert Fathers and Mothers lived in crude structures, and when I caught sight of a skeletal teepee fashioned of narrow tree trunks and framed by a dramatic, smoky sky, I thought of them. There is a mystical feeling I get when I walk the deserted, sandy beaches here, where people have created temporary lives, perhaps for just a few hours.

I come across an alcove made of branches, inviting me to sit down, tucked into its embrace. It’s a perfect place to meditate, to seek God’s wisdom as those who made their homes in the desert did.

Nearby a sawhorse made of sticks serves as a storage area for firewood and kindling. It’s ready and waiting for night’s descent, when it can fuel fire for warmth and light. Over the ages many have contemplated existence while looking into mesmerizing orange flames.

And then I reach a tabernacle with worshipful offerings placed on top: a stone, a pile of sand, a seed pod. Holiness hangs in the air. I breathe in. I feel Wisdom enter my body, gathered from all who sought God through solitude in the past, as well as future seekers. I feel the fire, smell the sacred smoke. I have entered the tabernacle where all are one.

All photos © Sondra Sula.